Cycle of Life: Revisited
by Illisandria Carthain
Summary: Zim is broken. Dib is broken. They are all broken, yet one can fix the other and, perhaps, find a way to fix himself. Remake of the CYcle of Life trilogy.
1. A Simple Phrase

(A/N: This is me when I have writer's block elsewhere in my life (and by life I mean my writing) so I decided I'd look back at some of my older stuff. I reread the Cycle of Life trilogy and was aghast. Those stories were HORRIBLE! So, ego wounded and in need of fixing, I decided to do this: I was going to rewrite the Cycle of Life trilogy as one story and then I was going to revamp it and make it longer and cooler and better all around. So this is where this came from. There are some Irken phrases in here and I have included a handy-dandy translations note at the bottom of this chapter.)

Disclaimer: the only thing I own are the various bits of Irken language in here, the Irken phonetic alphabet I used to compose them, Zim's OCD, Dib's bad emo poetry and hairstyle, Gaz(who will not appear in this chapter)'s autism, and the extreme OOCness that I ripped off of some hobo, y'know the one that just got a job? Yeah...that one.

**Chapter One: A Simple Phrase**

**[[itsator t'halketsu okef't t'halketsu etsunakederu-]]**(1)

It started with just that, three simple words, so seemingly insignificant that they were ignored the first time and had to be repeated.

"I have proof."

Zim looked up at his foe and squinted his normally magenta eyes, "Eh?"

"I said, I have proof Zim." Dib glared down at the diminutive alien. "I have proof of what you are and this time I have SOLID proof."

Zim snorted and waved a hand dismissively, "Pfeh. Zim knows you have no such proof. Do not try to fool me because I am Ziiiiiiiim! And Zim is amazing!"

Dib smiled dangerously and leaned in close to his foe, his now-long hair ghosting across the nape of Zim's neck eliciting a shudder and noise of revulsion. "I have a way…something my dad is developing for the CIA and FBI. It's a retina and memory scanner. You input a code word and the machine looks for matches in both the retinal imagery and memories stored within your brain."

"And your point? What kind of proof is that?" Zim crowed nervously.

"Well I've seen you without your pathetic disguise and foiled many of your sad schemes so I have many memories of you in your alien glory."

Zim smirked, _yes – glory.__ Zim was glorious wasn't he? _Then he frowned. _Two, he stopped at two sets of two. Bad bad bad…_

"The machine prints off results and matching images so I'll finally have actual PHYSICAL proof. And then the world will know what you really are…" Dib had leaned forward to a point that he nearly was eating the plastic top of the Hi-Skool lunch table.

"A completely normal specimen of the filthy HYUman smeetling-kind," Zim finished. Throughout the years many things about Zim's speech patterns had changed, he had grasped what he and most others of his age considered to be 'normal teenage slang'. What hadn't changed was his penchant for talking in the third person, random accenting of words, and snarky, semi-incomprehensible nicknames.

Dib just laughed cruelly and shook his head. "A filthy space-boy," he retorted. Then he pulled away from Zim and frowned. Zim's disturbed expression was replaced with one wicked sneer.

"Aw...is the Dib-thing afraid that his failure of a parental unit will ignore him once again; which will lead him to go to his room; have him turn on some of that mopey 'emocore' music; and slice deliciously depressing ditties into his arms, legs, and torso with a sharp utensil?" Over the years their fights had geared less towards actual physical fighting and more towards verbal barbs that had gotten even more accurate over the years, finding a chink in their target's armor. Dib's chink was his neglectful father, violently angry and mentally impaired sister, and his ever-growing bouts of depression that got so bad at points that Dib began to INVITE the Irken Armada.

"No Zim, I'm more afraid that the images won't capture your sheer stupidity and failure as an Invader. Even as a FAKE one." And that was Zim's weak point.

They glared at each other, controlling their emotions and engaging in their sick game of 'Uncle'—the first one to react with anything other than anger and contempt lost. Tears pricked at the edge of Dib's vision and for a second the world fractured and danced with light as the salty fluid brimmed in his eyes, not daring to spill over their restrictive lids. Zim waged a war inside of him, his indignant ego fighting his deep-seated hatred for the human. His ego was swallowed up and neither showed their hand. Then a single tear dripped down Dib's nose and he broke eye contact, smiling knowingly. Then he sauntered off just as the Skool bell rang for students to switch classes.

"See you in the news Zim."

Zim had nothing to say, contemplating the deep dookie he was in. _What is Zim to do? _He thought, _what is Zim GOING to do? _And he worried his way to his next class.

**[[meyaz PAK setsu-setsu welo -welohalkarutor toroke deruoke#]]**(2)

Zim sat down for study hall with Ms. Bitters and then raised his hand, patiently waiting for the decrepit old bag to catch wind of his great need. She finally caught his contact-covered eyes and growled, "What is it Zim? You'd better be dying or bleeding profusely from some orifice."

"Zim appears to have caught a resilient remnant of the H1-N1 flu strain and needs to go home and get vaccinated. May I? I AM a senior and can check myself out." provided GIR doesn't mess up.

Ms. Bitters gave him a once-over and then nodded curtly, gesturing to the door, "Get out. And if you get abducted on the way home and I get blamed I will hunt you down and rip your organs out through your new rectum." Then she turned back to her class and barked out an order, "Get back to work! I don't want to hear a single peep out of you!" The door slammed and the teenagers got to work.

Dib smiled to himself, pleased that Zim was so worried, and then turned his attention back to the poetry he had been writing on his arm the entire day:

_And when I finally understood, you take away  
What made you YOU in the first place  
Why is it that I must fail?  
Do you hate me? Or is it bigger? Some sort of  
Universal, no, INTERDIMENSIONAL conspiracy against me.  
Nevertheless...  
My heart bleeds for you still  
Come back to me, my three-letter word._

**[[nake t'halketsunake itsator halkitsator me'tsu_jerokeitsanake f'torkerencathetsusetstu-]]**(3)

Zim paced the floor of his lab nervously, "Why is it that as soon as Zim runs out of good plans to end this planet, the Dib comes up with an excellent plan to expose me? Does Setsuhalkitsa(4) hate me? Is it because I have fallen out of favor with my Tallests? I understand that I have not been the most amazing of Invaders since it shouldn't take an Irken Elite SEVEN halkeen(5) to doom one miserable ball of filth! Look at Skoodge, he finished his mission in less than a diverth halkeen(6) and now he's slumming it here just to spite me! Zim kicked the corner of a pristine counter and hissed in pain. Then, as the pain cleared the need began and he swiftly punched the wall with the opposite hand and then banged his head against a dooming machine.

He relaxed and then frowned, pacing back and forth. One – two – three, one – two – three, one – two – three. Then he paused and began the pattern again, talking to fill the empty space in the room.

"It doesn't help that the blasted human had a 'growth spurt' and grew like three Head, four Ring(7) or that Zim is two Head, ten ring shorter than everyone else and he is the only male to wear the colors of the Irken Empire! Zim does not fit in and yet the humans ignore Zim's not-fitting-in-ness! But now the Dib wishes to sabotage Zim's amazing disguise! And he has no remorse!" he paced a bit more, always in three sets of three steps, and then he got it. "Computer! Display options for scenario D-315!"

[OPTION ONE: WIPE THE DIB'S MEMORY]

"Too messy. And Zim likes having an adversary. Next!"

[OPTION TWO: KILL THE DIB]

"Again, Zim likes having a nemesis of his own. NEXT!"

[OPTION THREE: MAKE THE DIB RECONSIDER]

There was a much longer pause on this one as Zim had to stop and think, his PAK whirring in overdrive. "But the Dib will never reconsider..." Zim pondered aloud, "Because the Dib is human and cares about the human welfare..." Then there was a lightbulb moment and Zim grinned from antenna to antenna. Of course. "Computer! Contact Prisoner 777! I have an idea..."

**[[halketsu wel'okeumalierderu halketsulierpreth m'etsu-]]**(8)

Translation Notes:

(1) itsator t'halketsu okef't t'halketsu etsunakederu-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: it [was] beginning to end.

(2) meyaz PAK setsu-setsu welo -welohalkarutor toroke deruoke#: Phonetic Irken. Translation: my PAK *whirred* w[ith] possibilities...what to do?

(3) nake t'halketsunake itsator halkitsator me'tsu_jerokeitsanake f'torkerencathetsusetstu-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: [a]n[d] then it hit me, [we'd] join forces.

(4) Setsuhalkitsa: Irken goddess of death

(5) halkeen: one Irk day, equivalent to one Earth year

(6) diverth halkeen: half one Irk day, equivalent to six Earth months

(7) Head & Ring: Irken forms of measurement. A Head is a little more than a foot and a Ring is a little less than an inch. It's twenty-five Ring to the Head

(8) halketsu wel'okeumalierderu halketsulierpreth m'etsu-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: he would help me.


	2. Battle Plans

(A/N: This is kind of a filler chapter, explaining some things about the characters and their situations. And I have to thank my first reviewer, ngrey651. And I'm glad you did review. It made me feel like someone was actually reading. And here comes the angst. )

Review Replies: ngrey651: it will be longer. That was one of my goals. There will be ten chapters at the LEAST and they'll be at least one thousand words each. Hope you keep up with it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything shown in Invader Zim, Tears for Fears's "Mad World", or Kaito the Vocaloid's "Cantarella". I do own Zim's OCD; Dib's long hair, emo poetry, and depression; Gaz's autism; the machine mentioned in this and the previous chapter; the Irken language I use here; and the OOC-ness Dib and Zim exemplify.

**Chapter Two: Battle-Plans**

**[[helketsu h'a'deru cathokenakef'titsarenm'etsuderu meyaz sets'_itsator WEL'OKEUMALIERDERU erl'okerenkra-]]**(1)

Dib walked home in the rain, glowering at the fat drops of water that fell from the sky, splattering on the ground and in his hair and all over his stuff…stupid water. He stared at the blurring lines of poetry that he had composed on his arm in study hall and sighed deeply, all his heartfelt feelings, once exposed to the elements, were destroyed in a heartbeat.

_Metaphorical_, he thought, _story of my life._

All thoughts of the ink slowly staining his red tee-shirt with black splotches of marker were shoved aside as the music emitting from his headphones changed tempo and beat, going from a slow rock ballad to a bouncy 80's tune. He recognized the lyrics and began to sing aloud to himself.

"_All around me are familiar faces,  
Worn out places, worn out faces.  
Bright and early for their daily races  
Going nowhere, going nowhere.  
The tears are filling up their glasses,  
No expression, no expression.  
Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow  
No tomorrow, no tomorrow._

_And I find it kind of funny,  
I find it kind of sad,  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.  
I find it hard to tell you cause I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles it's a very, very-  
Mad world…_"

It was the older Tears for Fears version and, despite the depressing lyrics, the up-and-about beat made Dib smile and even get a spring in his step.

_I'm going to expose him! And then I will get the recognition I deserve! I won't be called crazy! Eccentric maybe, but not crazy! And with it raining, _he realized, _Zim is probably either in his labs trying to stop me or getting his flesh burnt off by the tainted dihydrogen oxide falling from the sky! I shouldn't be moping over some unrequited love that I'll never see again, I should be thinking of the now! I HAVE to get to that machine of Dad's…_ And he hurried his step just as some angsty twenty-one-year-old began screaming his sorrows through Dib's earbuds.

**[[setsuoke itsa bekgosuarunake toroke wel'okerenkra lieritsakraetsu prethlierarunnaakk'etsuderu-]]**(2)

Zim had been working ever since he had gotten off the comm.-link with Prisoner 777 and the results were satisfyingly accurate. It would be with information from 777. Just look at the number. Seven plus seven plus seven. Twenty-one. A multiple of three. Three threes was nine. A good number indeed.

Zim was finishing the first phase of the plan, putting the last bit of detail of the mechanics of the object and then he shut the hatch and smiled.

"There, Zim's done," he said aloud. _Good number…_

[REALLY? I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED IT FROM THE WAY YOU WERE JUST HOLDING THE SCREWDRIVER ALOFT. I JUST THOUGHT YOU WERE POSING FOR A PICTURE OR SOMETHING AKIN TO THAT. AM I WRONG IN MY THINKING?]

Zim's antennae flattened against his head, _six eights. Twenty-four twos. Baaaaaaaad…_

"Well Zim IS amazing, is he not?" Zim retorted, relaxing a bit when his speech pattern leveled out and the twos went away. "And yes, you were wrong."

If the Computer had a face it would have pouted. Instead, in a deux es machina , GIR came barreling in and nearly bowled Zim over. MASTA! I GOTED U SOMETHING REAAAAAAL NICE! LOOKY, ITSA MARY'S LAPPY-TOP THINGY!

Zim stared at the laptop and then back to GIR, "Where did you get this?"

WHEN THE MUNKY BOI WAS GOIN DOWN-DOWN N2 THE GRAVE AREA. The deranged SIR unit bounced up and down as he referred to Dib's basement/parental unit's lab.

Zim stared at the laptop and grinned, "Good work GIR-!"

KTHXBAI! And the robot ran off before Zim could finish his thanks.

Zim stared at the empty spot where GIR used to be and then turned back to the Dib's laptop. "Now what to do with this…" Zim quickly tapped his PAK's wireless interface(3) and downloaded all the files off of the computer and onto his PAK, easily bypassing the human's firewalls as if they were nothing. When that was done he tossed the piece of human technology into a bin labeled 'Take Apart Later' and began surfing through the files.

He quickly found all the ones about him and put them all in a folder labeled 'Read Later' and searched some more. He came across some which were encoded and password locked which he filed away under the folder name 'Figure Out the Irk-damned(4) Password and/or Encryption Key'. Then he ran across some music files. Intrigued he played one and suddenly deep, bass tones of a cello and high, liquid tones of a violin rang in his brain(5). For a second he was frightened, he had no idea what music was since there was no such thing on Irk, and these thrumming lows and wavering highs were foreign to him. Then the lyrics kicked in and he relaxed.

_Mitsu me au  
Sono shisen  
Toji ta sekai no naka  
Kidu kanai  
Furiwoshitemo  
Yoi wo satora resou_(6)

_Yake tsuku kono kokoro  
Kakushi te chidaku ite  
Toiki kanji reba shibire ruhodo_(7)

_Arefureta koigokoro  
Ni  
Ima  
Wana wo shikake te  
Wazuka na sukima nimo  
Ashi  
Ato  
Nokosa naiyo_(8)

The language was so like Irken that it seemed…familiar. Like home. And the music was rather nice. He could see why Dib always had his earbuds shoved in his primitive ear-holes. Music was like watching stars form, exciting and yet so peaceful.

[MASTER?] the Computer asked, interrupting Zim's blessing, [THE PLAN. IT'S ALMOST TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE FOR SKOOL]

Zim's head snapped up and he nodded sharply, ceasing the music and filing them all away under the folder name 'Listen to and Sort Later' He turned back to the object he had been working on and pulled a small device from his PAK(9) and set it on the table. "The last bit…" he sighed, "And soon Dib will never sleep again!" And evil laughter rang in the room.

**[[meumasetsuitsacath renarunakegosu itsanake meyaz PAK_satsuokem'etsutorhalkitsanakegosu gosuookkeederu toroke cathokem'etsu f'trenokeme EARTH-]]**(10)

Dib slammed a fist against the wall of his bedroom and growled angrily. His plan was ruined! Not only was Dad tweaking the machine which meant that he couldn't use it but he interrupted Gaz's cycle and she had pitched a fit. He had a few bruises, a split lip, and a bleeding gash on his face along with broken glasses to accompany her mini-breakdown. And then his dad had gotten on to him (HIM!) for upsetting his sister. It was unfair! It was biased! He loved her! He didn't love him.

_He doesn't love me…he doesn't love me because I have no love for real Science and I embarrass him. Like an autistic daughter doesn't. But he wouldn't know that 'cause I had to take her to the doctor myself. Neglectful father…poor father…not even a father at all._

He felt it then, the urge. The itch. The need to do IT. And he had held out for so long. Almost a month. He was so close to healing completely, so close to being there for Gaz all the time, and here he was about to do it again. But the pull was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

He grabbed the scalpel he had hidden in his mattress and swiftly and expertly rolled up his shirt, exposing the many crisscrossing scars that covered his thin torso. He traced one sadly, reading it out loud:

"_Unloved.  
Unlovable.  
That is me."_

Then he began to carve, the surgical tool twisting with just a flick of his wrist, turning with barely a movement. Soon the words began to make themselves clear, standing out red against his parchment skin.

_Tell me why I am  
Alone. Is it because being without you is  
Killing me, more than I am myself?_

Then he sanitized the tool, pulled his shirt off, and lay down, his head grazing the backboard of his bed. As he slipped the sharp object back in its hiding place he smiled, a smile brimming with sorrow, and whispered out loud, "Maybe tomorrow I'll see you again…maybe tomorrow I'll be better…" and he fell asleep.

**[[itsa wel'okenakederuetsuren itsaf't DIB itsasetsu bekrenokekraetsunake-lieritsakaetsu ZIM-]]**(11)

Translation Notes:

(1)helketsu h'a'deru cathokenakef'titsarenm'etsuderu meyaz sets'_itsator WEL'OKEUMALIERDERU erl'okerenkra-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: he had confirmed my suspicions, it WOULD work.

(2)setsuoke itsa bekgosuarunake toroke wel'okerenkra lieritsakraetsu prethlierarunnaakk'etsuderu-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: so it began to work like planned.

(3) wireless interface: think of the PAK as a supercomputer, a very advanced, very small supercomputer. With wireless interface.

(4) Irk-damned: Irk is not only the Irken home planet but one of the major Irken gods. Irk is the god of the Tall. This is where the Tallests draw their power and why the Irkens submit to those taller than them. The taller you are, the closer to Irk.

(5) rang in his brain: the music was being accessed through his PAK, his second brain, and therefore was being played directly into his head. No one else could have heard it.

(6)Mitsu me au  
Sono shisen  
Toji ta sekai no naka  
Kidu kanai  
Furiwoshitemo  
Yoi wo satora resou: Japanese romaji. Translation: When I stare at you, staring back at me we act as if we don't know what to say. Completely oblivious, but we both pretend as if everything is just a lie.

(7)Yake tsuku kono kokoro  
Kakushi te chidaku ite  
Toiki kanji reba shibire ruhodo: Japanese romaji. Translation: But as time passed, I think I felt weak hiding my heart, just trying to speak. With a sigh I realize now with you I can't be me!

(8)Arefureta koigokoro  
Ni  
Ima  
Wana wo shikake te  
Wazuka na sukima nimo  
Ashi  
Ato  
Nokosa naiyo: Japanese romaji. Translation: In normal love I am able to feel my heart pounding deep inside of me. This time I know the trap I set for you won't leave any traces behind.

(9) from his PAK: His PAK can also act as an actual pack and can hold things to some extent without damaging the wiring. I has to do with a space-time distortion field the PAK generates that allows it to hold more than physically possible.

(10)meumasetsuitsacath renarunakegosu itsanake meyaz PAK_satsuokem'etsutorhalkitsanakegosu gosuookkeederu toroke cathokem'etsu f'trenokeme EARTH-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: music rang in[side] my PAK, something good to come from EARTH.

(11)itsa wel'okenakederuetsuren itsaf't DIB itsasetsu bekrenokekraetsunake-lieritsakaetsu ZIM-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: I wonder if DIB is broken…like ZIM.


	3. Interspecies Exchange of Surrender

(A/N: Here comes the plot! I hope you all like it, I worked for a while through some nasty Writer's Block.)

Review Replies: ngrey651: Thanks for the support. Sorry you won't be able to review on this unless you use an anonymous reply. I allow those.

Disclaimer: I won nothing in IZ but in this story I own Dib's hair, bad emo poetry (none in this chapter!), the Plan, Zim's OCD (mainly the number-counting), Gaz's autism, and anything else you don't recognize.

**Chapter Three: Interspecies Exchange of Surrender**

**[[Itsa hal'okepr'etsu t'halkit'setsu wel'okerenkrasetsu-]]**(1)

Dib walked in to school in low spirits. He hadn't been able to obtain the proof he needed but he couldn't let Zim know that. He needed to keep his head high and his face impassive _Remember...this is so you can dishearten him...break him down like he does to you. You obviously worried him when you told him about the machine cause he left early under the pretenses of a "resiliant H1-N1 strain". Use this against him. Don't let him know that you have nothing. Be steel._

He passed by a worried looking Zim as he went to his desk and smirked, "Hello space boy. Enjoying your last day as a 'normal HYUman smeetling-kind'?"

Zim said nothing but then he looked up and frowned, gulping back his pride. "Dib."

"Yes?" this was going to be intriguing, Zim didn't call Dib by name without the usual suffix of 'thing' or 'stink' or 'filth'.

It was.

Zim offered Dib as small, round, metal object. It was a PAK with a blue interface instead of the normal Irken pink interface. "Here," he said as he prompted Dib to take the device, "An uncoded PAK. I made it so that some part of the mighty Zim would remain in this world when he was dissected."

Dib stared at the alien,_ He's giving me a PAK?_

_Don't take it,_ some small part of his brain protested, _Remember what happened last time you messed with a PAK?_

_Yeah, I do...,_he reasoned with himself. He turned to Zim and asked, "Will this one try to take me over and make me you?" his question was cynical and his look was that of distrust.

Zim smiled and offered it again, "Do not worry Dib, it is a blank PAK, it has not been activated therefore it has no personality downloaded in it and it needs no host. Perfectly safe for a human, no threat whatsoever." _You may find it to be useful at one point in time but until then it's just a hunk of metal built like a round Irken Swiss-Army-Knife._

Dib still didn't trust him. "And why are you giving me this? What will this accomplish? And don't give me this 'live on' bull you tried to pull earlier!"

Zim growled and swallowed an angry retort composed of mostly foul language. "Yyyyyyyesssss...I understand..." He came up with his answer in a second, "I just want you to remember me so that when you are living a normal life you will think of what once was and the fact that, although life will be more pleasant without me, it will also be not as much fun." It was killing him, not counting. How many words? How many syllables? He should have pre-prepared a speech! Anything to know there were no twos in his talk!

Dib stopped; warning flag! Where had he heard that line before? Where?...

_Whatever...,_Dib took the machine from Zim's gloved hands and immediately hissed in pain. Something had caught the soft skin in the pads of his fingertip on his middle finger. A single drop of blood oozed from the wound and Dib jammed the flange in his mouth.

Zim's grin widened. That was a pleasent, unexpected turn of events. That Dib would suck on the wound was something Zim hadn't deduced. Perhaps it would speed up the process...

Dib put the PAK in his messenger bag and turned away from Zim, "See you later you incompetent extraterrestrial invader!" Zim twitched but didn't respond. Nine and two...good and bad...what does this mean?

What would happen with his plan?

**[[Toritsam'etsu weloarusetsu itsa nak'eettssuud'etsuderu- Arunakederu itsa wel'okeumaderu weloarui'tor f'tokerenetsuvekr'etsuren]]**(2)

Dib began to feel a tad off around fourth period, Military History. He wasn't sure exactly what was up but his head hurt and he was feeling light of breath. His chest was constricting and his vision was beginning to swim. And he was extremely lethargic; he didn't even write on his arm, he couldn't think of any poetry for her.

"Dib!" his Military History called out to him, his voice sounding very faint in his ears, "Pay attention!"

"Mmmmnnng...I am paying attention..." Dib moaned, covering his head with his arms.

"Well then, what were we discussing?" the teacher snapped back. A chorus of "Ooooooooh"s circulated the room. Dib tilted his head so one amber eye peeked out of the shade of his arms.

"D-day...," he said, growling through teeth clenched in pain. Surprised at the correct answer, the teacher continued on.

Why do I hurt? Dib asked himself, What did I do wrong? Is it tetanus? But I got my shot weeks ago, I remember cause my arm hurt like a bitch for a week after that...so what is it?

He drifted off in a dreamless, pain-free sleep.

**[[Sestu-tor_ Sestu-tor_ Sestu-tor]]**(3)

Zim was antsy, when would it work? When would it begin? What would happen? Prisoner 777 had assured him that the process would take a while because of all the conversions that had to be made but Zim was so impatient! When? When? When? When would it be done? When could he relax and finally be free of this incessant doubt that plagued him like the pattern of twos that shadowed everyone's speech? And would it work as planned? When would he have to stop waiting for something that might not even come along anyways? When would his enemy finally keel over and die like he wanted? When?...

**[[T'halketsu ca'lierokecath setsu-tor arunakederu itsa c'arunnaakkeeoketor weloarui'tor arunakeyaz lierokenakegosuetsuren# Itsa nak'eettssuuderu t'oke kranakeokewelo# Welohalkarutor h'arusetsu h'arupprreetthhetsunak'etsuderu/ Arume Itsa umanakederuokenak'etsu/-]]**(4)

Dib awoke in the infirmary; head splitting, ears ringing, sight dancing with neon spots, stomach doubling on itself, whole body screaming in pain. Pain. Pain! PAIN!

"Are you awake cow-boy?" Dib groaned at the nickname he had accumulated due to Zim. He hated that nickname.

"Mmmmnnng..." he groaned, voice muffled in his ears and yet louder, an auditory oxymoron. His stomach, pausing from its furious crunching, protested its emptiness with a loud roar. "M'hungry..."

"You think you can stand and walk to the lunchroom? I don't like food in here."

But your assistant eats a chilidog here every DAY and you say nothing! Aloud Dib nodded and mumbled a "Yes."

"Good then. Leave."

Cantankerous biddy! Dib growled in his head as he stood up and staggered out the door, toting his messenger bag alongside him. Were it up to me you would be fired in a second.

He trudged through the hallway towards the lunchroom, wincing every time a light flashed in his face or a loud noise assaulted his ears. He entered the lunchroom and almost screamed; thousands of smells, none of them pleasant, streamed into his nostrils and tore into his head. It hurt just to be in here! The food, the people, they all smelled of something and no matter how hard he plugged his nose the smells would not dissipate.

He staggered over to Gaz (who smelt of elderberries) and sat down, tossing his bag on the ground. She looked up, one eye slitting open.

"Well look who's awake, the cow-boy," she sneered.

Dib groaned and pulled out his lunch, "Shuttup Gaz..."

"Don't tell me to shut up Dib...you were late," she growled dangerously, fists clenched, her GameSlave on the table; all were signs of a breakdown.

Dib didn't care. He was hurting, he felt sick, and right now he didn't want to even be here. So, instead of being the good brother he tried to be on a daily basis, he ducked his head down and dug into his sandwich. Ten seconds later he was spitting the roast-beef (not bologna mind you, not after THAT fiasco...) and bread out and clawing at the food that had seemingly fused itself to his trachea.

"Gaz...eechh! H-help me!" His sister just watched, unclenching her fists and picking up her GameSlave. He extended one thin arm out to her, pleading. She walked off as the bell rang.

When the convulsions stopped, Dib staggered to the water fountain and took a long gulp only spit it out again, screaming as it sizzled against his skin. He wiped the last drops of perspiration from his skin and stood erect. What's going on? Sudden allergies to food I've eaten for years, lethargy, pains in my stomach, hyper-sensitivity, reaction to running water...am I becoming a vampire? He stood straighter than before and grabbed his bag, hoisting it up on his shoulder, and walked towards the main office. I'll check myself out, go home, rest, and see if this is what I think it is or if it's just a bug. Yeah..., he nodded, That's what I'll do.

Unbeknownst to him, Zim had watched the entire debacle with pride. It is working, he thought. It is going exactly as planned. Good...

And then he walked away from the scene, satisfied.

**[[F'tits'arunakelliieeryaz Itsa weloarusetsu t'oke b'etsu setsuaruf'tetsu-]]**(5)

Translations:  
(1) Itsa hal'okepr'etsu t'halkit'setsu wel'okerenkrasetsu- Phonetic Irken: I hope this works  
(2) Toritsam'etsu weloarusetsu itsa nak'eettssuud'etsuderu- Arunakederu itsa wel'okeumaderu weloarui'tor f'tokerenetsuvekr'etsuren Phonetic Irken: Time was all I needed. And I would wait forever  
(3) Sestu-tor# Sestu-tor# Sestu-tor Phonetic Irken: [ticking noise]  
(4) T'halketsu ca'lierokecath setsu-tor arunakederu itsa c'arunnaakkeeoketor weloarui'tor arunakeyaz lierokenakegosuetsuren# Itsa nak'eettssuuderu t'oke kranakeokewelo# Welohalkarutor h'arusetsu h'arupprreetthhetsunak'etsuderu/ Arume Itsa umanakederuokenak'etsu/-]]( Phonetic Irken: The clock tik-toks and I cannot wait any longer! I need to know! What has happened? Am I undone?...  
(5) F'tits'arunakelliieeryaz Itsa weloarusetsu t'oke b'etsu setsuaruf'tetsu- Phonetic Irken: Finally I was to be safe...


	4. A Taste of What You Paid for

(A/N: I finally finished this chapter. It took me FOREVER to come up with something to write for this and when I did, I had no access to a computer. Sucks for me...Ah well.)

Disclaimer: The only things I own here are Zim's OCD (mainly the syllable counting which is a pain to write), Dib's emo-ness and poetry as well as his Irken form (though I am not the first one to come up with this idea), Zim and Dib's PAK ID#s, the name Tri Lan Sette, other Zim, the phonetic Irken, and the plot. The rest I stole from Viacom (with the exception of a few words) and I'm not giving it back! They don't deserve Zim! (I kid...about the stealing part).

**Chapter Four: A Taste of What You Paid for**

**[[F'tits'arulliieerryaz meyaz toritsam'etsu h'arusetsu calthokem'etsu/]]**(1)

Dib woke to a difficulty breathing and the dull, throbbing pain in his arm. Well, that and his alarm blaring, telling him to get up NOW. He sighed and rolled out of bed, collapsing to his knees. "What the—! Ow well that's just great. Fan-flipping-tastic! Anything else you want to throw at me God, huh? Maybe acne, or bad hair, or shaving? Y'wanna make me have to shave for the first time in eighteen years? Do you?" Dib shakily got to his feet and growled something unintelligible under his breath at the deity whom he was cursing. Walking to the bathroom—which was empty seeing as Gaz doesn't get up until five thirty—Dib dropped his boxers and relieved himself. Once finished, he turned to the mirror and ran his hand through his hair, blearily glaring at his reflection. When his hands didn't touch the thick, black mop he was used to, he woke up and finally registered what he was seeing in the mirror. Then he screamed.

In the mirror was an Irken, a Taller Irken, with amber eyes and avocado skin, who's antennae curved back in proud "7" shapes. The Irken in the mirror screamed as well and leapt backwards when he did. It finally registered that that this Irken was HIM. Then something else hit him: the lack of air and his rapidly slowing heartbeat.

Irkens need their PAK to live, to breathe, to keep their heart beating! I don't have a PAK! I'm gonna-wait! Dib suddenly remembered the PAK Zim gave him and he staggered, dragging his weak limbs towards his bedroom. He reached it and found his backpack, opening it and removing the Irken technology from within. Remembering where it sat on Zim, Dib place the PAK in the center of his back and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain he knew would come. The was a sharp, shooting pain in Dib's back and he screamed in pain as the PAK attached itself to him, rebooting his system.

**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION STARTING! PERSONALITY DOWNLOAD AT 25%...30%...37%...IRKEN CEASED FUNCTIONING! RESET HEART TO BEAT AT COMA STATE! BREATHING SET AT 10% TO CONSERVE ENERGY! HEALING ALL SUPERFICIAL AND INTERNAL INJURIES!**

The pain. Dib couldn't think through the pain, even if he could think at all. He could vaguely remember screaming, loud and at a pitch that humans couldn't hear, let alone produce with their measly vocal cords. He was thrashing and scrambling along the floor with limbs that wouldn't listen to simple commands. They flailed as though electricity flowed through them, thousands of volts of it. He had never felt this much pain in his life and, where the cutting pain was release, this was a build up of pain he couldn't handle. He was almost to the point of ripping apart, molecule by molecule.

**PERSONALITY DOWNLOAD AT 78%...93%...100% COMPLETE! REINITIALIZE HEARTBEAT TO 120BPM! BREATHING RAISED TO 100%! WOUNDS FINISHED HEALING! OCULAR NERVES REPAIRED! REINITIALIZE LIFE IN IRKEN DIB (PAK ID#26913-20189-12114-19520205 (2)) FUNCTIONS BACK TO 100%! PAK FULLY OPERATIONAL! INITIALIZE REVIVAL SEQUENCE!**

Dib shrieked one last time, this time at a decibel just low enough for a human to hear but still high enough to shatter his glasses. Then, miraculously, the pain stopped and Dib finally had control of his body again. He stood up shakily and stared at his claws sadly. "What AM I?"

There was the sound of the door creaking open and Gaz stepped into his room, face scrunched up in anger, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Dib, what are you screaming about? You interrupted my sleep so you better pray to God that when I'm done with you that your insides won't be on the outside. I'm gonna-" She paused and stared at Dib, IRKEN Dib, with a strange expression on her face. "Hey," she shouted, "Who're you and where's my brother?"

Unable to say anything, unable to THINK of anything to say, Dib jumped up and staggered to the window with inhuman speed. Then he leapt out of it and hut the ground running. ZIM, he thought, Zim did this to me so he's gonna fix it. To Zim's base he would go.

**[[T'halkit'setsu lieraruse'tor nakeitsagosuhalktor okef't pr'etsuarucalthetsuf'tumelier setsuli'eettssuupreth DIB wel'okeumederu h'aruvekr'etsu-]]**(3)

Dib dashed up to the Irken's base door and kicked it down with a ear-shattering scream. "ZIM!" The enraged teenager dashed in and came face-to-face with GIR.

OHAI U LOOK LIEK MASTA! The deranged SIR waved and grinned wildly, not recognizing Dib as an Irken.

"Go fetch your 'Master' GIR," Dib snarled, "I'd like him to look like a corpse in a few moments..."

K! BRB! GIR dashed off and, not a few minutes later, Zim appeared in front of Dib with a smug smile on his face.

"ZIM!" The teen-turned-Irken howled and lunged for the smirking Invader. Zim sidestepped the raging Dib and grabbed ahold of his head with one hand by the antennae, his claws digging into Dib's head.

As Dib shrieked in pain and flailed his arms as Zim threw him against the wall and snarled, "What is it you want you Irken scum? How dare you invade Zim's base on Earth? Are you here to steal my important mission from the Tallest? Tell Zim NOW!" He held an ungloved hand in front of Dib's face and grimaced as his claws began to drip a vivid green poison.

"Nonononono! Zim! It's me! It's Dib!" Zim pulled his claws away and wiped them on his uniform, a slowly-widening grin spread across his face.

"It actually worked!" Zim giggled with glee as he put his glove back on, "I cannot believe it actually worked! Prisoner 777 was right for once in his miserable life!" He pulled back and laughed and laughed and laughed, holding his squeedlyspooch and shaking with mirth.

"What did you do to me? Reverse it! REVERSE IT!" Dib lunged at Zim again, his claws dripping poison this time.

Zim sidestepped and smirked at Dib as he pinned him to the wall and stroked his antennae, eliciting a suppressed shudder from the once-human. "Do you know," Zim asked calmly, very unlike him, "The human saying, 'If you can't beat them, join them'?"

"You'd force me to join you?" Dib hissed in anger and then shuddered again as Zim's gloved fingers ran across the feathery tips of his antennae.

"You cannot beat me, why not join me?" Zim pulled his hand away from Dib's throat and turned him around, "I see you utilized the PAK that I gave you, do you like it?" He stroked the blue interface and grinned as it began to glow.

**INPUT PASSWORD NEEDED TO ACCESS CONTROL SYSTEM!**

Zim smiled, "Three."

**PASSWORD ACCEPTED! CONTROL SYSTEM MAIN MENUE; ORDERS?**

"Lockdown of all extraneous functions not needed to live. Leave hologram projector and universal translator as well as atmospheric regulator. Establish a link between PAK ID#2228008222(4) and host PAK for transfer of data. Oh," Zim smiled again, leering almost, "Allow for Galexweb browsing of subjects non-lethal to host or any other Irken and scramble the password."

**ORDERS ACCEPTED. CODE SCRAMBLED. LEAVE ACCESS TO INSTRUCTIONS MANUAL?**

"Affirmative. Allow limited access to instructions manual for host. Omit all weapons procedures, voice-control re-configuration procedures, battle training procedures, and lethal procedures of any sort. Highlight and emphasize Irken behavioral patterns, syntax, history, and hierarchy." Zim was on a roll and Dib had no chirfugging(5) clue as to what he was doing.

When Zim finally pulled away, Dib glared at him. "What did you just do? Change it back! Change ME back!"

"It is impossible! Zim has made you Irken and Irken you will stay!" Zim had reverted back to syllable-counting, his moment of clarity gone.

"Then I'll just expose you!" Zim's sneer widened and suddenly it hit Dib like a ton of bricks, "I can't expose you without exposing myself...can I?"

Zim, shuddering at the twos, clapped his hands together, "Congratulations! Give the boy a prize. What has he won now?" Zim swung his hands around in a dramatic fashion, "A whole new life as a loyal servant of the amazing Elite Invader Zim!"

Dib swung his hands out and growled, "What makes you think I'll serve you?"

"I have compete control of your PAK via a remote link. I can shut off anything I want at a moments notice; your hologram, your atmospheric regulator, your brain. Whatever I want to stop working will stop working. So either you work for me, or you never reemerge into human society alive again."

Dib paused and locked eyes with Zim, staring him down. Brown ocular implants stared down red ocular implants in a battle of wills. Then, after a long amount of time—with no blinking, Dib noticed—Dib looked down and sighed, "Okay...I'll work for you. But I won't help you try and take over the Earth! I'll do small things like robot-sit GIR and Minimoose and the Computer or even clean up your base."

"Oh, Zim doesn't need you for menial tasks like that. Zim needs...information. You will scour your brain and the human interwebs for information pertaining on whatever Zim feels like at the time."

Dib bowed up, "No! I'm not gonna give you any information! Any at all!"

"Computer! Seize the Dib!" Zim shrieked.

[YOU DO REALIZE THAT'S BOT THE DIB. IT IS AN IRKEN. DO YOU STILL WISH TO CAPTURE THE INTRUDER?]

"Oh for Setsuhalkitsa's sake, yes, capture the intruder!" Zim's antennae flicked up and down rapidly, a movement that Dib's PAK informed him was similar to rolling ones eyes.

Large tendrils burst from the ceiling and wrapped Dib up, suspending him a foot above the floor. "What? Put me down!"

Zim shuddered, four, a bad number. Two twos. "Not until you defect to Zim's side. Zim can keep the Dib suspended here for a week before the Dib's health begins to wane. Human food and drink would be worthless and Zim would not provide the Dib with any of his amazing Irken delicacies. The Dib would be weak. The Dib would then agree. And then the Dib would go home only to find his paternal-unit never noticed he left and the Defective Gaz-beast only missed her punching bag."

Dib flinched and tensed up, his fingers itching for a blade. There was a soft whirring noise and then the feeling went away, replaced with hard rage. "You seriously think I'd defect to your side? You seriously are so deluded Zim, I don't care if I STARVE and DIE! There's your problem, Zim; I stopped caring if I lived a long time ago. I stopped TRYING to live a long time ago. And this PAK, I don't need it! I'm not Irken! Even if my body needs it, I'm not dependent on this piece of metal. My BRAIN reminds me to breathe, my BRAIN reminds my heart to beat, my BRAIN keeps my thoughts in order, not this hunk of scrap. I don't need it, I don't need life, and I don't need YOU—nor will I EVER provide you with information! So suck on that, DEFECTIVE, OUTCAST, FOOD-SERVICE-DRONE ZIM!"

Zim's face screwed up and suddenly there was nothing left of the egotistical Invader that Dib recognized, all that was left of him was pure PAK-induced rage and animalistic fury. Dib suddenly became very afraid, his adrenaline spiking even as his PAK tried to suppress the fear. This Zim was to be afraid of.

Zim's mouth opened and from it came a deep, growling, mechanical voice, **LOGIC-CORE MALFUNCTION! EMOTIONAL FILTER FAILURE! RELOADING BACKUP PERSONALITY WHILE REPAIR AND COOLDOWN TIME!** Then the Irken shuddered and looked at Dib with cold and calculating ocular implants. "Hello DIB. There is something I have to tell you that I have been unable to vocalize properly due to some...malfunctions in my base personality." His voice was soft and sweet, undertones with dangerous malice. "You are filth, this is true, but I respect you as an adversary. However, if you continue to fratch(6) me, you and your whole race, starting with your familial-units, will be annihilated in the most horrific of ways; DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

Dib was horrified, this was a Zim he had only seen once, a long time ago when he had put on Zim's PAK. Back then it had been just a whisper coming from the deepest parts of the PAK, hissing about the atrocities of human nature and cursing Dib for tainting Zim's PAK with human filth. Now it was Zim and it was scary, so much that Dib was paralyzed with fear. When his PAK finally cleared away that emotion, Dib cleared his throat, "U-understood..."

"Then you will gather information for me, won't you Dibblet?" Zim hissed, "Won't you?" it was all Dib could do just to nod. "Good...Computer! Release the Dib."

[FOR THE FINAL TIME, THIS IS NOT THE DIB! IT IS AN IRKEN!]

Zim whipped around to face the speaker, "Irk help me you useless piece of technology, DO NOT FRATCH ME! This is the Dib, regardless of species, if I say it is! So RELEASE THE DIB NOW!"

The computer silently complied and Zim grinned, baring his teeth. Then his eyes glazed over and the mechanical voice issued from his mouth again, **COOLDOWN AND REPAIRS COMPLETE! REENITIALIZATION OF BASE PERSONALITY! **Zim blinked and stared at Dib, a slight look of confusion flitting across his face at the fact that he was released from the computer's hold. "Computer! When did Zim give you the permission to release the Dib?"

[ONLY A MOMENT AGO, MASTER]

ZIM was surprised by both the computer's compliance, and the answer he was given. "Really?"

"Yes," Dib interjected, "And I've decided to help you. Gather information, that is."

"Buwah?" Zim made an interesting noise of confusion, then smirked. "Ha! Zim wins! Now bow before the might of Zim; me!"

One of Dib's antennae flicked up while the other remained level, "Not happening. Now tell me how to work this hologram projector!"

Zim scoffed, mad that Dib wouldn't acknowledge his greatness and slightly put off by the fact that he couldn't remember what happened earlier, "The instructions should be in your PAK. just do a data-search for 'tools' and look for the phrase 'disguise projector'; it should be rather easy to find."

Dib facepalmed, "Of course it would be in my PAK, it's not like they're the chirfugging second brain that comes with an instruction manual." He closed his eyes and concentrated slightly.

Surfing through his PAK was a lot like surfing through the web; he had tons of applications (most of them blocked) and information as well as a sort of Internet application. Dib finally found the memory banks and searched until he found the hologram projector instructions. When he finished reading them, he mentally commanded the PAK to produce a holographic disguise that looked like him when he was human. There was a slight fizzing noise and then he was cloaked in a hologram of his own human skin. "This is neat!" Dib grinned and moved his hands back and forth, watching the projection flex as he did, "How come you don't use one of these?"

Zim stuck his nose (had he a nose) in the air and sniffed, "Zim is far too amazing to cover up with a hologram. Then no one would see his Zimness. Now begone puny Dib-thing! Zim has to leave for Skool and does not wish to be seen with you, his mortal enemy!" Zim made a 'shoo' motion with his hand and turned away, stepping into the toilet in the kitchen. Then, with a flushing sound, Zim was gone.

Dib sighed and turned away, not particularly happy with the situation, but too scared of the other Zim to do anything about it. Just as he was about to leave, GIR glomped him and squealed.

OHAI MARY! HOWRE U? DIDJA JUST GET HERE? I DIDNT CU COME IN! U LEAVIN ALREADY? SADFACE! DONT GO MARY, DON'T GOOOO!

Dib managed to pry the SIR off his head and sighed, "Go 'way GIR, I'm not in the mood..."

OK! IMMA MUNKEY! WOOOOOOOOO! GIR ran off and jumped into the trashcan, zipping down to where Zim was. Then Dib left, ready to deal with his sister.

**[[ITSA WELOARUSETSU F'TR'EETTSSUU JEXUMASE'TOR ARU MEOKEM'ETSUNAKETOR-MEARUYAZB'ETSU ITSA C'ARUNAKE GOSUE'TOR MEOKER'ETSU F'TR'EETTSSU HALKETSU F'TREARUTORCALTORHALKET'SETSU M'ETSU-MEARUB'ETSU ITSA C'ARUNAKE F'TITSAN'ARULLIIEERR B'ETSU TO'RENUMAETSU ITSANAKEVEKREARUD'ETSUREN-]]**(7)

Translation Notes:  
(1) F'tits'arulliieerryaz meyaz toritsam'etsu h'arusetsu calthokem'etsu/ Phonetic Irken: Finally my time has come!  
(2) PAK ID#26913-20189-12114-19520205: If you look for the letters that go to the numbers it spells ZIM-TRI-LAN-SETTE, the people who built (or came up with the blueprints for) Dib's PAK. Tri lan Sette is prisoner 777's Vortian name.  
(3) T'halkit'setsu lieraruse'tor nakeitsagosuhalktor okef't pr'etsuarucalthetsuf'tumelier setsuli'eettssuupreth DIB wel'okeumederu h'aruvekr'etsu- Phonetic Irken: This [would be the] last night of peaceful sleep DIB would have.  
(4) PAK ID#2228008222: Zim's PAK ID number spells out ?BOOB? which is a bit of an allusion to the fact that Zim's PAK is Defective and he's a bit of a boob.  
(5) chrifugging: a word I like; taken from the stories "Fly by Night" and "Fly Trap". Like "f_" but it's a euphemism.  
(6) fratch: this one I took from Karen Miller's "Kingmaker, Kingbreaker" and "Fisherman's Children" sets of books. It means to make extremely angry, or (in the case of being fratched) being extremely angry. Synonymous with "p_(ed) off".  
(7) ITSA WELOARUSETSU F'TR'EETTSSUU JEXUMASE'TOR ARU MEOKEM'ETSUNAKETOR-MEARUYAZB'ETSU ITSA C'ARUNAKE GOSUE'TOR MEOKER'ETSU F'TR'EETTSSU HALKETSU F'TREARUTORCALTORHALKET'SETSU M'ETSU-MEARUB'ETSU ITSA C'ARUNAKE F'TITSAN'ARULLIIEERR B'ETSU TO'RENUMAETSU ITSANAKEVEKREARUD'ETSUREN- Phonetic Irken: I WAS FREE [FOR] JUST A MOMENT...MAYBE I CAN GET MORE FREE [IF] HE FRATCHES ME...MAYBE I CAN FINALLY BE [A] TRUE INVADER...


	5. Monkey's Paw

(A/N: I am not pleased. I had this whole chapter written, and I lost the copy. Holy shit! I mean, really?! I lose that thing?! Dumb, piss-ass luck, that's how...well that delayed the release of this chapter for quite some time so for this, I thank you. Thank you for sticking with me anyways (whoever you are since no one but ngrey651 and QueenofUndergrowth reviewed this *hint**hint*) and to the asshole who decided to delete this: tumut. Also: I get a bit conflicted when writing this. I want to continue to make Zim as verbose as I feel he is wont to be, but I need to keep his syllable-counting. Doing both is hard. This chapter gives hints to fandoms and objects that have been sucking my time away. Especially most of the PAPPS. Enjoy!)

DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own /Invader Zim/ or any of its affiliated characters and ideas. I do, however, own Zim's OCD, Gaz's autism, Dib's depression, PAK, and Irken forme (although I don't own the original idea of an Irken!Dib), the PAPPS (PAK apps), IRKMATE, spy(x8)dr, the emoticons used here, and En/'Real Zim'. The aforementioned 'not owned by me' items belong to the Antichrist: Viacom.

**Chapter Five: A Monkey's Paw**

**[[ZIM n'oke u'nakeda'e'tsa'runakedan DIB_ DIB f'trasestuts'ants'etsu ZIM s'oke mets'umacen-Welohalkyas do'kes'etsu DIB n'oke cenokenakef'tokeranmetsu/ F'tumats'halketsuran ranets'eettssuuarucenhalk nak'eettssuudanetsudan- - -]]**(1)

Gaz was furious; no, _more_ than furious, she was _enraged_! Dib was acting weird, well...weirder than normal. First there was the whole "Irken in his bedroom" thing—his Macbook Pro had been thoroughly trashed for that offence—and now he was being _quiet_ on their walk to Skool!

Dib was never _quiet_, especially when it came to Skoolday mornings.

"Th' hell's your problem?! And what was an Irken doing in your room?!" Gaz snapped at a spacey Dib, fingers tightening around her Gameslave 3D. There was no reason for her not to _try_ and salvage her morning routine, even if Dib was going to be an ass about it.

Dib jerked up to meet Gaz's eyes, "What?! Nothing's wrong! Why would you think anything's wrong?! Eh-heh-heh..." He flinched, waiting for the storm to hit but Gaz just scowled and went back to her game of Piggy Hunter DX. "As-as for the Irken in my room, its...its my 'idiot alien' costume. I made it for Doom Con in March. You like it?" He gave her a thin smile, unconvincing and fake.

_Everything about me is fake. Fake skin, fake smile, fake human. All FAKE!_

**RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS: 15%...48%...59%...71!,9/)1&:!7!.€]!\¥!—ERROR 300496: BREAKDOWN IN EMOTIONAL FILTER PROCESS—RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS: 11%...27%...33%...):72!: /$!2$:$/!—ERROR 300496: BREAKDOWN IN EMOTIONAL FILTER PROGRESS—RETRY Y/N?**

There were some things even a PAK couldn't fix. Depression and problems with the human psyche were on that list apparently.

_Failure. I am such a failure._

**Then let them be Invaded. Let the Empire win.**

Dib wasn't sure whether or not that was him or the PAK, but he hated that voice; it reminded him of the 'real Zim'.

_But they're my people, my race, they're humans!_

**And you're ****_not_****...**

Depression, anger, depression, anger, with the toss of a coin his emotions changed, never stable, volatile and unpredictable.

**RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS**

"So the scrawny little bastard has the _audacity_ to hug me! I popped his head off his neck like a grape from the vine," Gaz said nonchalantly as she rapidly mashed the B button, stabbing PIG'LYBOLB in its multiple eyes. "Then the freak just _grows it back_, like its no big deal. I'm telling you, Iggins is not human."

**Irony, for her to be ignored now**

_Shut up!_

Dib only nodded along as the Hi-Skool building came into view, the sickening feeling of dread pooling in his...squeedilyspooch? That _was_ the singular organ the Irkens have, wasn't it?

**Squeedilyspooch: often abbreviated as 'spooch, the squeedilyspooch functions as the stomach, intestines, kidneys, and urinary tract system. Other Irken organs include a dual-chambered sanguine transport system known as the treab, the brain-meats, and an inflating methane-pusher called the blen.**

_Thanks for the info there, it really helped..._

Skool was going to suck.

**[[Weloyas ZIM etsulierpre'tsuitsanakegan DIB/ DIB etsunak'etsuyas# DIB, ZIM setsuli'aruv'tetsu# Setsuoke weloyas ZIM cethar'e'tsu/- - -]]**(2)

Zim wasn't quite sure why he was participating in this inane dance of 'master' and 'servant' with Dib. Why bother? Why even try to make Dib's assimilation into Irkenkind pleasant in the first place? He was the Dib! He was an inferior, a _skaatel_! So why the attachment?

**Because you are broken,** a dark voice inside Zim's head hissed.

_Nonsense!_ Zim replied, _Zim is perfect!_ He stuck his nasal-ridge high in the air and frowned. What audacity that voice had, insisting that Zim was broken! Zim was not broken because he was Zim and he would not be Zim if he was broken because broken is defective, and defective is not Irken, and Zim is very clearly Irken, so Zim is not broken.

His logic was so infallible sometimes, he even amazed himself.

_Take that._ Zim was so preoccupied with his mental battle with the voice in his head that he almost didn't notice Dib coming in and sitting down.

_Almost._

As the human-turned-Irken plopped his rear in his chair, he looked toward Zim and then away again. _Hm. Seems as though he is still mad at Zim..._

The klass started with the infernal ringing of the warning bell and locking of the doors. The hideous klass teacher, Ms. Bitters, materialised in the front of the klassroom, right in front of Dib, and leered at the disguised Irken. Dib made eye contact with her and then paled considerably, looking rather ill. She hissed and then went about her business of calling roll and banishing the tardy students to the underground klassrooms.

Zim noticed all of this, of course, because he was paying so much attention. So, in order to further understand his Dib—_his_ Dib?—he opened up the command prompt on his implant-screen(3).

**«EXECUTE PAPP:S8RV4.6»  
****«EXECUTING...»  
****«#####|_04|)1|\|6######»  
****«RUNNING PAPP:S8RV4.6»**

The logo for the spy(x8)dr(4) popped up on his implant-screen in the bottom of his left implant. The smiling spider-bot's eyes flickered and the vid-feed from Dib appeared in each eye.

Dib was writing on a piece of paper, scribbling down notes on the klass as well as some random musing. Zim maximised the Ocular feed and began to copy down what he was writing.

_zim is nuts...no that thing is nuts! REAL zim REAL irken_

_what would i even call it? en? short for 'real irken'?_

_whatever...jeeze ms. bitters is terrifying...i never knew she looked like that! what the heck?!_

_she was black and shadowy...all freaking tendril-y..._

_ugh...she freaking creeps me out...i wonder what zim is doing?_

_x=2y+(3*15) if x=1/2*(i-/3) solve_

_dang math sucks_

_This is boring,_ Zim decided. _Just-decanted smeets know higher level maths than hyuman smeet...adult...teen...things..._ He pulled up the command prompt again and began preparations to irk the Dib-thing.

**«EXECUTE PAPP:IMV2338.53»  
****«#####MINIMISE PAPP:S8RV4.6—INTCR-3#####»  
****«EXECUTING»  
****«#####|_04|)1|\|6#####»  
****«RUNNING PAPP:IMV2338.53»**

The happy-face style Irken logo for IrkMate(5) popped up on his left implant-screen, sneering at Zim. He activated the PAPP and pulled up Dib's PAK ID.

**—PAK#2228008222 [ZiM] IS IRKING PAK#26913-20189-12114-19520205 [DiB]—  
****ZiM: Hey Dib-filth! ! !  
****ZiM: Heeeey! ! !  
****ZiM: Pay attention to Zim! ! !  
****DiB: what the heck is this even?! :/  
****DiB: zim?!  
****DiB: are you seriously iming me in my head? :?  
****ZiM: What is this 'iming' thing you speak of? ? ?  
****ZiM: Also, turn off those odd face...thingies...  
****DiB: help! zims in my head! crap! what?! i cant stop! aaaaaaaaaaaaah! X(  
****ZiM: comPAKt****/search/missive_1|?|{|\/|473-|_|5463%#  
****ZiM: Open this link and then come back.  
****ZiM: Galaxweb should allow for you to access this. The block that Zim installed allows for browsing of non-lethal topics like IrkMate.**

There was a long pause in which Zim watched Dib browse the Galaxweb page for operating IrkMate. When he did finally reply, Zim had almost pulled his antennae off from boredom.

**DiB: ok i think ive got it :)  
****ZiM: Great Irk, you're way too slow! ! !  
****ZiM: And stop with the faces! ! ! Zim commands you to stop! ! !  
****DiB: no :P**

Zim slammed his head on his desk, the loud smack drawing the attention of Ms. Bitters, who slithered a single tendril out at him. The tentacle caressed his face and he shuddered, the warmth leeching from his skin. Cold-blooded or otherwise, any person wouldn't appreciate the embodiment of anti-matter touching you. Especially if you're the insectile, egotistical, irritating Zim.

**DiB: euch...what is she? :/  
****ZiM: It's a D'thir.  
****DiB: a what now?  
****ZiM: You've seen the Meekrob, right? ? ?  
****DiB: the shoe aliens? yeah...major drag  
****ZiM: Yes, correct.  
****ZiM: The Meekrob are a race of incorporeal energy, made of light.  
****ZiM: D'thir are the polar opposite; anti-matter shoved into a corporeal existence.  
****DiB: corporeal anti-matter?! isnt that a bit of a conundrum?  
****DiB: how does something made of the opposite of matter become matter?  
****ZiM: It's top-level science that your puny human brain-meats would be incapable of comprehending.  
****DiB: im the son of the worlds leading scientist. try me :/  
****ZiM: ...okay then.  
****ZiM: If you insist on polluting your mind with folly, be my guest.  
****DiB: lay it on me! :)**

Zim sighed and continued scribbling math notes on his paper. He had not been planning on a metaphysics lesson, nor was he going to enjoy it. Ex-scientist or otherwise, the possibility of corporeal anti-matter was not an easily explainable one.

**ZiM: Although anti-matter is the opposite of matter, it does, in fact, have a form. D'thir, which are composed entirely of anti-matter, have—merely operating on the aforementioned principal—a body.  
****ZiM: While it is not a body as beings of matter, such as hyumans and Irkens, it is still a body.  
****ZiM: As such, they need to feed; however, since anti-matter is rare, and matter would cause a horrendous reaction within the universe, the D'thir have learned to sustain themselves on fear and despair.  
****DiB: ...oh...0_0  
****DiB: weirdly enough, that explains a lot :/  
****DiB: go figure**

Wait, Zim thought about what he was doing for a second. He was having a _polite_ conversation with his _enemy_-turned-friend-of-a-sort! A _polite_ conversation. _Polite_. Conversation. With. The. Dib-Irken. It was time to abort mission.

**ZiM: Now don't forget to compile information for me to review later today, after this filthy facsimile of a learning institution closes for the afternoon, that is.  
****DiB: c-/:  
****DiB: whatever.  
****—PAK#26913-20189-12114-19520205 [DiB] CEASED IRKING PAK#2228008222 [ZiM]—**

**«CLOSE PAPP:IMV2338.53»  
****«#####INQUIRY_CLOSE PAPP:S8RV4.6?#####»**

Zim glanced over at Dib, and then at the spy(x8)dr screen. The Dib was furiously diagramming what sorts of nasty experiments he's like to do to Zim, in vivid detail. His heart-rate was high and his dopamine levels were fluctuating rapidly; unnaturally, even. Gel tears blurred the corners of the viewing-screen, preventing Zim from seeing the words scribbled around the edges of the nasty doodles, but he had a feeling they weren't nice.

That made him get a hollow feeling in the pit of his squeedilyspooch, an unusual feeling that caused his antennae to press against his skull in confusion.

_Why?_ He wondered, _do I feel this way?_

**Because you are broken,** hissed the voice. This time, he had no rebuttal for it.

**«YES»  
«EXECUTE COMMAND»**

Translation Notes:

(1) ZIM n'oke u'nakeda'e'tsa'runakedan DIB_ DIB f'trasestuts'ants'etsu ZIM s'oke mets'umacen-Welohalkyas do'kes'etsu DIB n'oke cenokenakef'tokeranmetsu/ F'tumats'halketsuran ranets'eettssuuarucenhalk nak'eettssuudanetsudan- - -: Phonetic Irken. Zim [does] not understand [him], [he] frustrates [me] so much. Why does [he] not conform? Further research needed...

(2) Weloyas ZIM etsulierpre'tsuitsanakegan DIB/ DIB etsunak'etsuyas# DIB, ZIM setsuli'aruv'tetsu# Setsuoke weloyas ZIM cethar'e'tsu/- - -: Phonetic Irken. Why [am I] helping [him]? [He is the] enemy! [He is my] slave! So why [do I] care?...

(3) implant-screen: Irken ocular implants, much like the rest of their nifty features, are mechanical. They function, not only as eyes, but as a camera lens and a viewing screen for PAPPs. The implant-screen can run multiple PAPPs (PAK-APPlications), much like any normal computer monitor. They usually are kept out of line-of-sight so that the Irken—more often an Invader than not—can still see perfectly enough to function in battle.

(4) spy(x8)dr: a PAPP that remotely accesses a set of eight spy drones that are implanted in all Irken prisoners of war and persons of interest. They attach themselves to nerve-endings—or, in Dib's case, PAK wires—and act as a normal neurotransmitter while recording and broadcasting whatever the person of interest is seeing/hearing/doing as well as their vital signs.

(5) IrkMate: a chat client designed for team invasions. Originally designed to help Irkens scattered across a planet to covertly communicate, IrkMate became a tool for social interaction among the Taller Irken. However, back when Zim, Red, Skoodge, Tak, and Purple were indoctrinated into the Elite, it was a standard-issue PAPP for covert ops. Now, even in its late running, it is no less popular.


	6. Disorder, In Order

**(A/N: I tried to not curse...I really did...trigger warnings in this chapter: suicide attempts and overdosing. I'd also like to formally apologize for not touching this for so long...I needed to focus on less stories so I could write better. Juggling eight unfinished stories was just too much for me so i narrowed it down to three. I'm having writer's block with those three so I decided to finish this chapter that's been sitting on my iPod for six-plus months. You can tell where I picked up again, can't you? Ah well...)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim. Neither does Jhonen, but that's a moot point. What I do own are the PAPPS, En/'Real Zim', Dib's depression, Gaz's autism, and the Irken language used within. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Six: Disorder, In Order

**[[DIB bekaruff'ttli'etsusetsu ZIM_ DIB arud'aruprethsetsu qiumaitsacethkedlieryas- etsuv'trelyas tsakitsam'etsu DIB lierookkeesetsu ZIM se'eettssuu DIB danitsaganumase'tsak- i'tsalk it'setsu okenakelieryas relitsagantsalk* ZIM wel'okeumadan wel'okerreellitsadan itsaf't i'tsalk n'oketsalk-]]**(1)

Dib knew that Zim was brilliant—he was, after all, an alien from an advanced species—but he had never put much thought into how brilliant he really was until a few hours ago.

Skool had finished with no more of those odd IM-style interruptions and Dib had compiled a rather lengthy list on humans—data that he had memorised as simple facts; nothing harmful, just average height, weight, gender distribution, what he could remember of genetics, et cetera. When Skool let out, Zim did something usually atrocious and Dib flew off after him in pursuit. A mere façade for the lesser masses.

When he arrived at Zim's base, the gnomes did not watch him like usual, instead letting him pass by their proximity without pause. He opened the door only to be greeted by GIR, sucking on a large, red-and-green swirled lolly, and let in with a sticky smile.

Normal, right?

Zim was there, all grin and ego, waiting for Dib to hand him the list. When the human-turned-Irken passed the unassuming piece of paper from his pale, holographic hands to his—God he hated even thinking the word—master's black, gloved ones, Zim seemed to finally focus on what Dib looked like.

"Take that disgusting thing off right now," he snapped as he began to read the list, not even bothering to thank Dib for the information. (_Why would he though? Ungrateful little jerk._)

"What?" Dib glared down at his hands, stomach (**squeedilyspooch**) churning with the seemingly-never-ending, swirling miasma of depression and fury. Understanding—resenting (**I hate you**)—his order, he deactivated his disguise and returned to looking like an Irken.

(_God, I hate this._)

"Better," Zim mused as he perused the paper for its secrets, "I demand you stay that way when you're in my presence." Sullen silence was Dib's only reply as Zim mused over the note for a bit longer, then thrust it back into his Dib's hands with a dissatisfied grunt. "It's not detailed enough. Rewrite it."

"_Pardon_?!" Dib was incredulous, how—what—why was he telling him to rewrite the notes?

"Re. Write. It." Zim over-enunciated each syllable to stress that he was not messing around.

"Why should I?" Dib retorted, completely missing Zim's momentary grin at the three-syllable answer he just gave.

"Because," was Zim's response, "they are not detailed enough." Cheeky little bug.

"What do you mean by "not detailed enough"?" Dib probed, realising that his simplistic questions were eliciting simplistic answers.

Zim's grin grew wider, dampening only as he realised Dib's syllable-count was divisible by two. "A human smeet could've written these," he elaborated. "Zim needs cold, hard facts, not these pathetic little tidbits you've given me. Go and do research, "son of the world's leading scientist" and give me knowledge, not information." He turned to leave in a huff.

"What kind of knowledge...," when Zim didn't turn around, Dib reluctantly added, "master?"

Without turning back, Zim answered Dib with a precise wave of his hand, "Genetics, anatomy, strengths, weaknesses, tactics, instinct, evolution, development, and such. Bring me something I can use, Dib-filth."

"And food?" Dib prompted.

"In the food-storage-container and cabinets; there should be enough for you to take some to your human domicile and consume there, so you aren't bothering me all the time." Zim stepped on a fake-tile and raised a chute to the lower levels.

"How often do I have to eat?"

"Check your PAK manual."

Wow, that's helpful. "And how do I do that?!"

"Figure it out, Dib-thing." With that, the pretentious alien retreated to the safe-house of his laboratory to ponder the machinations of mankind using only the meagre information handed to him by his former enemy. Dib, on the other hand, resigned himself to sulking like a small child.

He pulled food willy-nilly from the fridge and cabinets and composed a slapdash meal of several sweet things along with something that looked like a paste made out of colourful insects. Overall, the taste was not unpleasant, in fact it was rather bland despite what he assumed to be about a kilo of sugar in the whole thing. Irken food sure was odd.

He lazily sat back in a kitchen chair and pulled open the command prompt with some difficulty. When it finally popped up on his implant-screen, he hurriedly entered some commands.

**«QUERY: EXECUTE HELP»**

The response was far quicker than instantaneous; almost within a nanosecond he had an answer to his query.

**«COMPAKT EXECUTION COMMAND: SEARCH_QUERY»**

Oh. He felt very foolish. That was simple enough.

**«SEARCH_STORAGE»  
****«#####SEARCHING######»  
****«ERROR: OVERLOAD\KEYWORD_STORAGE_TOO BROAD A SPECTRUM»  
****«QUERY: STORAGE OF WHAT WHERE»**

He was impressed now. That the PAK system had the AI to recognise that a search was too broad was ingenious. If only humans had the technology.

**«SEARCH_STORAGE OF FOOD IN PAK»  
****«#####SEARCHING#####»  
****«COMPAKT FILES FOUND CONTAINING KEYWORDS: 3»  
****«EXECUTE COMPAKT FILES FOUND»  
****«QUERY: SIMULTANEOUSLY»  
****«AFFIRMATIVE»  
****«FACT: A SIMPLE YES OR NO WILL SUFFICE»**

_Cheeky AI_, he decided, _I can do without._

**«#####EXECUTING#####»**

Three documents dotted his implant-screen, covering his peripheral with a jumble of Irken letters and numbers. Before he even had a chance to execute a translation command, the letters seemed to resolve into intelligible sentences and paragraphs. He momentarily mourned the loss of his innocence, of one of his last ties to humanity. Now he was more Irken; now he could read the Irken language.

One of the three documents he dismissed because it wasn't relevant to his needs; it was on the lack of rotting in Irken food when it came to dark spaces. The second one he dismissed because it was on types of self-preserving food made by Irken subsidiaries. The final document was exactly what he was looking for.

The steps were simple, ridiculously simple, even. **Step one: depress PAK lower shutter and release.**

He reached his arms around his PAK and managed to push in the lower blue—what he assumed to be, since it had yielded to his touch—shutter. It popped open with a satisfying click.

**Step two: place foodstuffs into lower storage-unit. The cold-fusion coils keep the area cold enough for even the freshest of Plookesian soups.**

Simple enough. He shifted his shoulders and began packing the perishables one-by-one. When he felt he had enough to last him a week, he stopped raiding Zim's pantry and bid a grateful farewell to the ugly home-base...whatever.

As he was leaving, just as he had activated his disguise, GIR stopped him at the door. He had a huge grin pasted on his face, **HIYA**!

"Hey, GIR," Dib droned in response. He was not in the mood to deal with him right now.

**UM...SO MASTA SEZ NOT T'TELL U BUT,** the little robot shuffled at the ground, then looked intently at Dib. **HE RLLY LIEKS THE MUZIK U GAVE HIM AN HE WANTS MORE. I LEIK IT 2**, he added, in hope that it would increase Dib's willingness to comply.

Instead it shocked Dib to his core, "_What music_?"

**THE MUZIC ON UR LAPPY-TOP!**

"_Why does Zim have my laptop?!_" PAK-approved fury bubbled just beneath the surface of Dib's rough Irken skin.

**I GOTED IT 4HIM. HE LOOKED SADS SO I GAVE HIM IT KUZ U LEFT IT WHERE I CUD GET IT.** GIR looked sad, but the rage Dib felt—multiplied by the PAK's emotional filter—didn't subside. Instead, it grew until it was a black shadow, blocking the light from his mind.

Dib lunged at the robot and grabbed him by the throat, hoisting him into the air. The molecules around him vibrated with energy as he glared down the small SIR, "**You will tell your master that he will return my computer at once. There are important things on there, files no one should have access to, and I demand he give them back. Understand?**" GIR whimpered and nodded, and was released to scamper into the bowels of the base.

As his rage ebbed away—never disappearing, it seems—he took a shaky breath and stepped out into the world, ready to face his sister. After the abuse he suffered today, handling her disorder would be a cakewalk.

Zim watched Dib's form recede into the horizon through the eyes of his gnomes. The once-human's reaction to GIR's planned prodding had elicited an unusual response.

_He reacted with unadulterated fury,_ Zim pondered. _Why so? What has changed?_

**Perhaps,** that niggling voice in his PAK offered,** it's you who have changed; not Dib.**

That voice had become more frequent since his black-out, the odd echo of a different Irken. He had simply dismissed it as his Logic Core(2) finally working right, yet something still felt off. Was it that the voice was hyper-aggressive or that it spoke in twos and fives?

_Pish_, Zim countered, _Zim never changes. Zim is perfect the way he is. To suggest otherwise is heresy to the mighty Zim._

**If you insist,** the Control Brain conceded. It sounded weary and irritated; an unusual emotional spectrum for the mighty rule-makers of the Irken race.

Zim dismissed the odd premonition of something being not-right-at-all and sat back in his control chair with smug satisfaction. Another day in his mighty experiment a complete success! As he relaxed, he remembered why he had goaded the Dib in the first place: his computer; namely the files on his computer. The encrypted ones seemed particularly interesting. Why would the Dib-thing hide anything from everyone? It is interesting...

He pulled open the folders he had the files in and began looking at the names. Z913_D365vd_subj. _What sort of filing system did he even have?! It makes no sense at all!_

The whole folder was full of files like that. They all started with "Z913_D" and pandered off into (seemingly) random numbered and letters. The "_subj" seemed to indicate topic and, in its place was a variety of pidgin words like "_spec", "_tech", and sometimes "_goal". "vd" was always an .avi file, while "ev" was a .jpg and "ad" was an .mp3 file. In fact, the more Zim stared at the files his PAK was decrypting, the more he realized that there was a very specific way the Dib had labeled everything.

It went: Z913_D(number)(file denotation)_(topic).(file type)

"Ha ha ha!" Zim cackled, seeing the files open up to his demands one-by-one. "Once again Zim has outsmarted your pathetic hyu-man weak technology!"

Now, he thought as he opened file Z913_D3vd_subj, prepare to face the wrath of Zim! The video flickered into being on his Optic Screen and Zim sat back in his chair, excited.

**_The camera Dib was using was out-of-focus and fuzzy, flickering in and out until the peach-and-black blur resolved into Dib's face. He sat down in the chair behind him and peaked his fingers, clearing his throat. "So," he began, "day three of the alien invasion of Earth. The subject, one Zim—origins unknown—has successfully infiltrated our society without anyone noticing. But I noticed...I NOTICED!"_**

**_The camera tried to refocus as Dib had thrown himself off the chair and onto the floor. When he sat back down, he grinned at it and coughed. "So...from what I have observed, the alien is green, bipedal, speaks English well enough, and has no concepts of "good disguises". Seriously," he deadpanned, "I've seen better Halloween costumes from four year olds. Anyone with half a brain could have figured out he wasn't human."_**

**_In the distance Gaz could be heard yelling, "You have half a brain!" Dib just kneaded his temples wearily. He was too young to be suffering from this kind of stress..._**

**_"I have yet to ascertain his weaknesses, species name, planet of origin, or world domination plot, but I'm sure it's something heinous. I look forward to updating this video diary with a dissection—or vivisection—sooner or later. Dib, savior of mankind out!" And with a jaunty salute and some terrible camerawork, the video feed cut and the file ended._**

_It seems as though the number after "D" is how many days Zim has been here on Earth...,_ Zim reasoned. _So Zim will find something more recent!_

He chose Z913_D1103ad_goal.

**_The sound clip started playing almost immediately, filling his head with the somehow loud background noise of children playing. Dib's puberty-laden voice soon came in after, cracking every so often, much to Zim's amusement. "So," he took a deep breath, "It's pretty early in the third year of Zim's time on Earth and I think I have a new attack plan. This one involves mainly spoons."_**

**_There was a large pause followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground and bushes rustling. "Fuck it, who am I kidding?! I know I can't do it, he knows I can't do it, hell, even my sister knows I can't do it and she's got—well...I'm not any better off than her..." Scratching noises. "These are really itchy...I should try and do a better job disinfecting these next time." Sigh. "Whatever. There's really no point to this anyway. We all know I'll fail and he'll take over. No reason to try. Why do I even bother?" Silence over a minute period, broken only by the background noise. "Fuck it. I'm going home."_**

The sound file ended, leaving Zim in silence. _What was that? Dib sounded...sad. And angry. And tired all at the same time. __It is unusual...perhaps that's what the anomaly in his behavior stemmed from. That angry-sad-tired feeling of his._

**You could easily fix that,** the Control Brian commented.

_True enough, but the Dib-slave's faults are not Zim's major concerns at the moment. The mission is._

He rifled through a few more files, some pictures, some video diaries, and some sound bites. He eventually came across three files labeled differently than the others.

D95_A1_P, D95_A2_G, and D95_A3_C

All video files, all more heavily encrypted than the other files, and all about five minutes long. Zim opened A1 and played it.

**_Dib had tears running down his face. He couldn't have been any older than thirteen, which dated this during the second or third year of Zim's time on Earth. In his hands was a bottle of prescription medication, the lid off and some pills already in his other hand. He started talking, shakily._**

**_"I've decided it isn't worth it anymore. Living, that is. No one gives a flying fuck about me, no one believes me, and no one loves me. Therefore I'm done. Just...done..." He threw the pills in his mouth and refilled his hand._**

_Doesn't the Dib know that taking all of those pills will kill him?_

**That's the point.**

**_Dib downed the entire bottle and sat back, visibly shaking. "I figure that pills are the best way to go. They're easy enough to find around here, with Dad being a scientist and all that. He's always got some experimental something-or-other medicine lying around so, I figured I'd just take a whole bottle-full. This one is labeled "Experimental Anti-Psychotic" so, if my knowledge about medicine is anything to go by, it should kill me. Anti-psychotics are highly addictive and highly toxic. I'll give it a few hours..." He seemed nonchalant about it, but Zim could track tears running down his cheeks, the way his hands clenched and unclenched, the tremors running through him, and the way his facial muscles twitched. It was all signs that he didn't really want to do this, but he was anyways. Why?_**

**_The video faded out and back in to a very ill-looking, but alive Dib. The time stamp read it as five hours later. He wiped drool off of his lips and sighed. "Turns out," he said, voice raspy, "that the pills I took were experimental in the fact that they were intended to prevent overdosing by inducing vomiting once the body recognized a certain amount of the chemical in the person's bloodstream. I spent the last thirty minutes puking on and off. Chalk one up for Dad, huh..." He sounded weary, but somehow relieved. "So I'll live another day. Skool's in three hours so I better get some rest. Maybe next time I'll be smarter and actually finish what I started."_** The camera turned off, leaving those dark words lingering in Zim's PAK.

And yet, there was a part of him that was angry that Dib didn't actually die, and the oppressive worry that came with that knowledge was so foreign that Zim felt his body literally heave to try and get rid of it.

If that was what those other two videos were about, then Zim wasn't sure of he wanted to watch the rest. Not now, anyway.

"Computer," he called out as he dismissed the files from his implant-screen. "Bring up any disorder or disease with these symptoms: cycling between angry, sad, and tired; attempts to end one's own life; giving up on one's goals; and emotional flatlining."

**[PROCESSING...ONLY ONE MATCH FOUND FOR ALL SYMPTOMS NAMED]**

**Why are you even bothering with this?**

_Be quiet you,_ Zim commanded the Control Brain. Fury bubbled up within him that wasn't his and he shuddered._ If you please,_ he supplemented.

"Name the match."

**[DEPRESSION. IT IS USUALLY MEDICATED AMONG HUMANS, BUT THERE ARE SOME CASES WHERE IT GOES UNTREATED AND THE PATIENT ENDS THEIR OWN LIFE OR THEY ARE NO LONGER ABLE TO FUNCTION NORMALLY IN SOCIETY. WHAT PURPOSE DOES KNOWING ABOUT THIS ILLNESS HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR PLAN?]** The snark in the computer's voice was blatantly obvious and Zim didn't like it.

"_It's none of your business you robot_!" He snapped. The computer just sighed deeply and retreated into silence. Zim sank back in his chair and grumbled.

**What is the point of you doing this,** the Control Brain growled.** Pity? Possession? Weakness?**

_An Irken is not to be flawed. Zim will not stand to have a Defect Dib._ He struggled to control himself, the seven in the Control Brain's last sentence. Prime numbers weren't twos but they also weren't threes.

**He isn't even Irken at heart! You're just lying to yourself and to him. He's more human than you but you're more of a Defect than him.**

That struck a chord and Zim began to tremble. His hands clenched and unclenched as his breathing became irregular. Twos everywhere! "Z-Zim is...not a De...fect..." Twos again! His PAK whirred and steamed, slowly overheating. Upon reaching critical temperature, it shut down.

Zim slumped over, eyes blank. His mouth remained unhinged as his PAK worked frantically to rectify the problem. According to its mainframe, the issue was the mental state of the main personality. Therefore, the solution would be to let the main personality rest and allow access to the backup personality, which was more level-headed and controlled.

**INITIALIZING BACKUP PERSONALITY. EXECUTE COOL-DOWN PROCEDURE. UPON COMPLETION REINSTATE MAIN PERSONALITY!**

A large forked metal appendage came out of Zim's PAK and delivered jolts of electricity to the unconscious Irken. He jerked erect and a wide sneer spread across his lips.

"Good...very good...," he muttered. "Now to talk to Dib. I think I may have found a solution to both our problems." Zim stood up, dusted off his uniform, and took the elevator to the main floor of his base. It was time to start his plan...but first he had some loose ends to tie up.

* * *

Translation Notes:

(1) DIB bekaruff'ttli'etsusetsu ZIM_ DIB arud'aruprethsetsu qiumaitsacethkedlieryas- etsuv'trelyas tsakitsam'etsu DIB lierookkeesetsu ZIM se'eettssuu DIB danitsaganumase'tsak- i'tsalk it'setsu okenakelieryas relitsagantsalk* ZIM wel'okeumadan wel'okerreellitsadan itsaf't i'tsalk n'oketsalk-: Phonetic Irken. Translation: [He] baffles [me], [the way he] adapts [so] quickly. Every time [he] looks [at me I] see [his] disgust. It is only right; [I] would be worried if it were not [so].

(2) Logic Core: the part of the PAK that handles the thinking process. It sends each individual thought to the Control Brains and they evaluate the thought, then send back a yes or no. That was, essentially, the Irken logic compass and, much like a conscience, was a small voice in the back of their PAK telling them yes or no. Zim's Logic Core has had issues since day one, resulting in his ineptness when coming up with proper 'take over the world' plans. Therefore, though he understands the concept behind a Logic Core, he has never actually heard the Control Brains in his PAK.


End file.
